


Five Times Derek and Stiles Thought About Holding Their Baby and One Time They Did

by Saraste



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Angst, Dark, Depression, Eventual Happy Ending, Hale Pack, Kid-fic, M/M, Miscarriage, Mpreg, Sterek Week 2016, bereavement, sterek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-25
Updated: 2016-10-25
Packaged: 2018-08-27 00:15:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8380006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saraste/pseuds/Saraste
Summary: Derek and Stiles' journey to become parents is not easy.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is... I don't even know where this came from. I was supposed to write happy kidfic and then this just... happened. Not canon-compliant with 3B. Scott isn't an Alpha. Erica and Boyd are all alive. Derek is the alpha.
> 
> CW: Fic has discussions and low-graphic mentions of miscarriage.
> 
> (Why did I write such an unhappy fic?)

1.

 

That first time, it’s all just speculation. They look at Scott and Allison, who are all happy smiles and cooing, holding their newborn, the first baby born into the remade Hale pack.

 

Stiles sees Derek looking, the naked longing in his eyes, the want. 

 

Later that night, when they’ve gone through their evening rituals, indulging in scarily calm domesticity, both of them fidget as they settle into bed. This calm is still a new thing, high school was such a mess, college was interspersed with coming back to Beacon Hills at a moment’s notice to come sort out all sorts of supernatural issues. They’d only moved together properly after Stiles got his degree, into this big beautiful house with a wrap-around porch, trellis with wisteria creeping up it, and a big yard for a horde of kids to run around it. Sometimes Stiles, working from home, looks at the yard and thinks. And then is distracted by his husband, mate,  _ alpha _ , walking around in his altogether. If trying counted, they’d have at least one kid already.

 

‘Do you want kids?” Stiles asks, boldened by the day spent in thinking about what-if’s. Thinking about the precious weight of little Alyssa in his arms, thinking  _ what if she was ours. _

 

“I… someday. But only with you.”

 

“I’d love them to have your eyes,”  _ and fur _ , he does not say.

 

“Why not yours, you know I love your eyes.”

 

“How about both?”

 

“Someday. Someday.”

 

Stiles falls asleep as the big spoon to Derek’s little spoon, hand over his stomach, where no baby will ever gestate, hoping for a child.

  
  


2.

 

They’ve barely even talked about surrogacy, when the supernatural part of their lives gives them a chance for a child completely theirs… only to snatch it away in one go, leaving them bereft.

 

Especially Derek.

 

Derek, whose body  _ is _ able to gestate a baby, because he’s a born werewolf, the chance boosted by the dwindling of the Hale bloodline. There were too many secrets that were lost in the fire, Derek having been too young to be told, to understand. To be told and Peter, who must have known, cold in his grave now for years.

 

But it’s all for nothing, as Derek can’t protect those most important to him, will forever be left with empty arms that will never hold their baby. 

 

It’s a cruel twist of fate that they only knew they had been expecting only when Derek was already losing the baby,  _ their baby _ . His and Stiles’. 

 

The bed dips under him and Derek curls smaller into himself. He hears a sigh. 

 

“It wasn’t your fault…” 

 

Stiles is hoarse from crying, his scent full of misery, washing over Derek. Derek would deserve anger, because he wasn’t good enough. Wasn’t able to… 

 

_ Go away, _ Derek wants to say. But he doesn’t have the right. Can’t bring himself to.

 

Eventually, Derek drifts into sleep and when he wakes, he’s the big spoon, curling around the mate he  _ can _ protect, hands aching for the pup he, they, couldn’t have. Daring to hope they’ll have another chance.

 

3.

 

They know it’s a possibility, now. But the how of it, the Stiles impregnating Derek part, is still a mystery only explained by intersexed werewolf physiology. Or something. That knowledge doesn’t make it any less surprising to find out Derek’s pregnant.

 

Again. 

 

It couldn’t have come at a worse time, though. They’re at war with a newbie pack trying to encroach on their territory. They’re a nasty bunch, made up of fuck-ups kicked out from other packs for not following Pack Law. They don’t play by the rules, don’t adhere to any other ethos but that of ‘Want. Take. Have’, as Stiles puts it. And what they want is the Hale lands.

 

And they aren’t particular about what they do to get it.

 

Derek’s barely five months along and terrified, even if he doesn’t show it. But Stiles knows. His husband, his  _ mate _ , his alpha, is an open book to him now, and Stiles hurts for him. This time Stiles almost dies for him, for them. Or tries, anyway. 

 

But he’s a human in a werewolf pack, against an all-wolf pack of amoral misfits, and severely out of his depth. He has to  _ watch _ , head pulled back by the attacking alpha’s second in command, hands held in a bruising grip, as his packmates,  _ Derek _ , fight for their lives.

 

Another pack, one they have an agreement with, comes to their aid, but it’s too late. 

 

Too late for their baby. Because the the alpha corners Derek, his second distracting him for a moment, threatening to slit Stiles’ throat. Stiles meets Derek’s wide eyes and it’s a mistake. The alpha corners Derek and plunges his claws right through him, whispering something into his ear as Derek curls over the hand, mouth full of blood. 

 

Derek’s howl haunts Stiles’ dreams for years after. 

 

He remembers very little of the moments right after, as rage consumes him and magic suddenly burns through his clothes. He remembers holding Derek’s hand, his head in his lap, his body failing, failing… too late for their baby. Stiles regrets having looked.

 

Stiles steps in as the alpha’s mate during Derek’s slow and painful physical recovery, oversees the other alpha executed, as per Pack Law, for killing the unborn child of another pack. The rest, now omega’s, they hand over to the Argents. Stiles doesn’t lose sleep over whatever happens to them. He doesn’t go all lady Macbeth over the blood on his hands, for his revenge was just.

 

“It’s done,” he tells a silent Derek, still where he’d been in their bed when Stiles had gone. Erica had passed him when he’d come in, eyes red-rimmed, hugging him tight and whispering her condolences and that Derek hadn’t moved.

 

Derek says nothing.

 

In the night, in his dreams, he grasps for a child he felt die.

 

4.

 

Derek is brittle for a long time and not hiding it well. Luckily, they are given time to mourn. And Stiles’ reputation keeps most away, anyway. What tales are told of him, he does not know, for he has thoughts for Derek only.

 

His mate, who flinches away when Stiles’ hands even accidentally touch his middle, where a jagged scar still heals, slowly, so very slowly. Some nights during that summer Stiles sits out on their porch, looking out into the Preserve, hugging his knees and crying. Because he remembers the handful of times he felt their baby kick against his palm, that bright spring. He never cries in their bed, when he’s there with Derek, for he would know.

 

There are still kisses, exchanged through tears at first, and simple intimate touches. Derek seeks out Stiles’ arms, moulding his big brittle body within his embrace. In time, when summer and winter have gone and spring blooms, he presses his body against Stiles’, hard and wanting. 

 

But they do nothing which could result in Derek being pregnant again. 

 

An ultrasound picture framed in the bedroom wall above their bed is all they have to prove they almost became parents to a child that lived.

  
  


5.

 

Alyssa is walking determinedly over the big lawn of the backyard and Stiles’ and Derek’s place. She’s just two. Steady on her feet and babbling up a storm.

 

Stiles and Derek are sitting on the back porch steps, side by side, looking as Allison swoops her daughter up into her arms, laughing and kissing her giggling face. Scott’s smile for them is wide. 

 

Stiles forgets, then, that he isn’t supposed to ask, but Erica’s pregnant and the sight of her and Boyd curled over a deck chair close by, the picture of happiness, and he forgets.

 

“Do you think we’ll ever get that?” his nod encompassing both pairs.

 

Derek stiffens by his side, hands formed into fists as Stiles glances at him. 

 

“I…”

 

Their baby would be learning to walk, now, toddling on unsteady legs, Would have been held and loved each and every day of their precious life. Stiles will never forget, will live with the memory of blood and ---, Derek falling to pieces as his body was shutting down, the sneering rival alpha, the panic attack he’d had when he’d known Derek would live. 

 

“It’s okay if we ---”

 

“I want to…” it’s hushed, so hushed Stiles almost misses it. 

 

He looks at Derek properly, intently, wanting some sort of answers now, even when they’ll talk more behind closed doors.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“I want to.”

  
  


5.

 

A year later, it’s another late spring day, summer hastening towards them, and a toddler is taking a few halting steps over the lawn. Isaac sits with Boyd, both watching at Erica and the toddler. 

 

Stiles and Derek are sitting on a bench near the porch, ostensibly watching this important milestone, but they only have eyes for their own source of joy. 

 

John Caleb Hale-Stilinski is a happy baby, currently in a state of somnolence, held carefully within Derek’s gentle arms, wrapped in a shawl.

 

“He’s really cute,” Alyssa remarks, leaning closer over the bench rail. 

 

Stiles flashes her a grin, before his eyes are riveted by his days-old-son once more.

 

“Of course he is, he’s a Stilinski,” the Sheriff remarks from beside Stiles, where he’s perfecting his doting grandfather routine. 

 

Derek growls softly. 

 

“And a Hale, geez, dad!” Stiles says in exasperation. He holds up his wedding band. “Hale-Stilinski, remember?”

 

But he really is. And wanted. Cherished beyond belief. As is her sister, Talia Claudia Hale-Stilinski, safely tucked in Stiles’ arms, his eyes flitting between her and his son, not quite believing his luck. 

 

The decision to name their twins after both of their parents respectively had been the result of long discussion, but their babies were the continuation of Hale pack blood, and their parents had been what brought them to this point. They were already called Jonny and Lia anyway, so they would be their own people.

 

And they would live and be loved, cherished and held.

  
  



End file.
